Julia - Porn Wife

[moonshadows]

Shower’s still going. Knock on the door. “Duke? You okay in there?”

“No, I am not okay!” is the angrily-yelled response.

Okay, worrisome, but he’s angry, that’s a good…okay, it’s not a good sign but it’s a…mitigating one? The water cuts off, which is promising. Means he’s willing to talk. “What happened?”

“What happened?” He laughs in disbelief. “What happened is some uptight bitch who hates porn got pissed at her husband, and now any guy that gets within fifteen yards of her…” The shower door slams open and he stares at me, wild-eyed and shivering and improbably erect. “…gets this.”

Hates porn. “And it won’t go away.”

“Gold star,” he says with a grimace.

I grab the hand he was gesturing with. “Well, get out of there, you’re freezing and it’s clearly not helping.”

He lets me pull him out of the shower stall and stands there hugging himself while I towel him roughly off, one part rubbing to increase blood flow and two parts getting the water off. A few times he sounds like he might say something, but instead just draws the tattered remains of his dignity tighter around himself.

“Don’t,” he said sharply as the towel moves up his thighs. “Look, I tried everything already, nothing works. I’m sure Audrey will find her and get her to calm her ass down soon enough.”

I lower the towel and stare up at him as archly as I can from kneeling in front of him. “Everything?” I ask in a tone of calling bullshit. He look away, uncomfortable. “If she hates porn, she’s probably one of those who thinks human sexuality exists for procreation. And if that’s the case, I bet I know what will fix this.”

“Julia…” He sounds miserable and pleading at the same time. I wait, but nothing follows my name and he swallows like two different sentences are fighting to the death to determine which one will be said.

I get my toes under me and lean back, standing in one startlingly fluid motion. “Duke Crocker,” I tell his collarbone firmly, since he still has his head turned away from me, “you get on that bed right now.”

Whether it’s my impression of Mother’s best “you’re in big trouble now” voice or his own strained nerves, he bolts. I follow him into the bedroom to see him sitting at the foot of the bed, feet flat on the floor, hands fisted in the comforter, still looking as tense as a bowstring.

“Just promise me you won’t suck my life-force out,” he jokes weakly.

I pull my shirt off over my head and toss it to the side, sparing a moment to be glad I decided not to wear the ratty bra today. “Oh, I’ll suck something out.”

He tries to laugh, to arch his eyebrows and smirk, but his knuckles are white and when I slip my jeans off, his breath catches.

When I swallow my own nervousness and push his knees further apart, he holds his breath and goes rigid, every muscle trembling. Then I take him into my mouth, rolling him around, and he falls back with the most gratifyingly heartfelt groan I’ve ever heard. I know this probably won’t fix the problem, not if the Troubled woman is as uptight as I think she is, but I give Duke a few minutes to tell me to stop, to leave, that he doesn’t like me that way.

He doesn’t.

What he says, raggedly, is “I’m not getting…” and then he sits up because I’ve stood to shuck off my bra and panties and he looks up at me – which is an interesting change from the usual angle I see him at – with naked vulnerability and hope. He scrambles backwards at my gesture, still torn between reluctance and desperate need, dark eyes following as I crawl onto the bed beside him, playing it safe in case the Troubled woman thinks missionary is the only acceptable position. He rolls onto his side, silently asking me what I’m doing, one hand half-reaching out to touch my cheek, smooth my hair back behind my ear.

I take that hand and place it firmly on my breast, tugging at him as I roll onto my back, forcing him to put one knee between my legs for balance, never breaking eye contact. “Fuck me,” I tell him solemnly, my nipple already hard between his fingers.

He does.

 

It’s hours later before I wake up, my cheek pressed to Duke’s chest, one arm around me, my calves caressing his long, long legs. A tangled flap of sheet and comforter covers his torso, and there’s no tenting. He doesn’t stir as I lift myself carefully up to see his face, all the usual hard suspicion and cheerful masks washed away, leaving him looking like a lanky gypsy angel. Not that I’ll ever tell him how cute he is when he’s asleep. Gently, I slide out of bed and pull the covers up higher over his body before looking for my clothes.

“Where are you going?” he asks quietly, but there’s no soft burr of drowsiness in his voice. It’s almost sharp, like he’s holding something in.

I can’t lie to him, especially not after this. “To leave you some dignity?” My voice is even, but I know my expression won’t hold. I don’t look at him. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

“I’m pretty sure I was the one taking advantage of you,” he counters with his usual lofty, satisfied tone. Covers rustle. “Julia…”

“I won’t take what wasn’t given,” I tell the opposite wall firmly. “You needed help, and I was glad to give it, but I know what happened between us was because of a Trouble and I won’t…hold it against you if you want to pretend it didn’t happen.”

There’s silence for a moment, which is fine because my throat has closed up and my breathing is getting shaky.

“Do you?” he asks quietly. “Want to pretend it didn’t happen? Because I know you won’t tell anyone, but if you only did it because…”

“No.” The word comes out firmer than I thought it would, but now I’m afraid I misinterpreted his question.

When he speaks again, it’s like a confession. “I thought you weren’t into me. That you’d grown out of your fascination and saw me as a brother figure.”

That makes me snort. “I’ve been into you since you were seventeen, Duke.” I can’t help myself; I turn to see what reaction that has, and find him sitting up and staring open-mouthed in gratified surprise. That makes me smile a lopsided little smile. “I thought you weren’t into me.”

He laughs in disbelief, arms spread wide as if looking for witnesses. “Then let me lay that misconception to rest, because there was a lot of into you that just happened, and the only way the Trouble influenced that was it actually gave me more stamina.” He grins cockily at me. “I’m pretty sure Mr. Porn Husband doesn’t exactly go the distance for his wife. So, we good?” he asks as I laugh. “Because if I gotta freeze my nuts off to get you into bed with me again, I’ll do it, but I make no promises as to how well I’d be able to perform after that.”

That makes me laugh again. “We’re good,” I assure him. “Just ask next time. Hypothermia is not one of my turn-ons.”

“That is an in-depth discussion I am dearly looking forward to having with you,” he says, climbing out of bed and tossing me my panties, “but right now…I need to call Audrey and make sure Mrs. Porn Wife got taken care of, see if Nathan got anywhere or if he was just humping her leg the whole time, and come up with a witty answer for the inevitable question of if I was affected and what I’ve been doing for the last few hours.”

“Hit your head in the shower,” I suggest as I slide my jeans back on and button them. “I found you unconscious and chilled and dragged you to bed to warm you back up.”

He crosses the room with my shirt in one hand and a pair of pants in the other. “Oh, you warmed me up, all right,” he says, taking advantage of me reclaiming my shirt to tangle his fingers in my hair and kiss me. “Julia,” he murmurs, forehead pressed against mine. “You really okay with this? I know I should have stopped to ask after the first time, but I was afraid of what the answer would be.”

I cup his head between my hands, pushing him away enough to look him in the eyes. “If I weren’t okay with it, I would have given you two shots of Nyquil and let you sleep it off.”

“Point taken,” he laughs. “So, dinner tonight? Officially, to celebrate you keeping me from drowning in my own shower and negotiate a hazard pay clause?”

“And privately?” I ask, but I’m grinning.

He runs one finger gently down my cheek, expression saying without words that I can back out at any time. “To discuss what else we haven’t been saying to each other.”

I turn my head to kiss his finger. “You’re the boss, Boss.”

Duke backs up like my brilliant smile is pushing him across the room, shaking his head and laughing. “You,” he gets out between chuckles, “are a wicked woman.”

“Just your type, then?” I shoot back.

He cracks his pants at me. “Go, let me get dressed before I forget how long it’s been since I’ve eaten. Wench,” he adds with affectionate annoyance.

Laughing, I scoop my bra up and saunter out, still topless.

“Hey, Audrey, it’s Julia.”

“Julia!” She sounds surprised but pleased. “Hey. What’s up?”

Carefully, I keep the smile out of my voice. “Was there some kind of…Ice Queen Trouble today?”

“Icecrea- oh, Ice Queen. Um. Why do you ask?”

Oh, that was her prying tone. “Well, I heard a thump while Duke was taking a shower and when I went to check it out, I found him unconscious and erect and the water was frigid. So I’m really hoping there’s an explanation for him apparently being sexually attracted to cold water.”

There’s a muffled sound that could either be repressed laughter or a desperate attempt to erase a mental image. “Is he…okay?” she asks awkwardly.

“Well, I dragged him out and put him in bed to warm up…made sure he wasn’t concussed or hypothermic…but he wasn’t relaxing if you get my meaning.”

“And…?” She sounds hopefully eager now.

“I gave him two shots of Nyquil and let him sleep it off. Didn’t want to call you until things…went back to normal…in case you were still dealing with whoever’s Trouble it was.”

While she makes incoherent, strangled noises, I bite one knuckle to keep from laughing.

“No,” she sighs finally. “One of the parishioners…took exception to her husband’s pornography habits and her Trouble gave nearby men erections that could only be dispelled through Church-approved sexual conduct. Not one of my favorite cases. Duke’s okay, though?”

No, he’s amazing. “Woke up refreshed and relaxed,” I tell her innocently. “He’s making dinner tonight to thank me for making sure he didn’t drown in his own shower. We’re going to do some talking, too.”

“Oh? What about?” Eager, too eager.

Sorry, not this time. “Personal injury hazard pay clause.”

“Oh.” There’s more she wants to say, but she’s tried it before. “Well…good. I guess.”

“Thanks for telling me about the trouble.”

She sounds disappointed and resigned. “Yeah, no problem. See you tomorrow.”

I close the phone and laugh.